


If You've Got Troubles, I've Got 'em Too

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Category: Hellcat (Marvel Comics), She-Hulk, The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl
Genre: Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life, also patsy and jen are married bc i want them to be, jen and patsy looking at doreen: oh shit weve gotta pseudo-adopt this 18 yr old, just a little bc theyre superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: Right, so. Patsy knows tonight's date night, but she found this kid at the bottom of an alley and couldn't justleaveher there. Rain check on the cheese platter and wine in favor of patching up Squirrel Girl and letting her sleep on the couch?
Relationships: Jennifer Walters & Doreen Green, Jennifer Walters & Patricia Walker & Doreen Green, Patricia Walker & Doreen Green, Patricia Walker/Jennifer Walters
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	If You've Got Troubles, I've Got 'em Too

**Author's Note:**

> title from youve got a friend in me
> 
> i wrote the first 2.5k of this MONTHS ago bc i wanted patsyjen but also them having a friendship w doreen and then i JUST got a wild hair to write the other 1.5k in a few hrs so hi welcome to my first fic of the decade its, as always, incredibly niche
> 
> and if you came here looking for comic canon im so sorry this is just seasoned wlw superheroes mentoring a young wlw superhero and me not considering canon even once

For once, Patsy thinks, everything is where it should be. The moon is still tucked away in its corner of the night, the city skyline alive and intact beneath her feet as she skirts the rooftops. Even the sounds lighting up around her are, all things considered, a kind white noise. Cars honking quick blitzes, TV sets crunching out static like chip crumbs, and the rise and fall of voices singing, crying, laughing.

It makes it worth it, for sure. Because there are some days she wants to hang up her mask and grab Jen's hand and tuck tail like a pair of geese during the winter. Fly the coop, or wherever geese live, and sit on a sandy beach somewhere without a care in the world or a call to answer.

She'd never be able to do it, and neither would Jen, but it's a nice thought. It's even nicer, though, when she can't imagine a night outside of the city, when it fills up her chest and overflows through her ribcage. 

Tonight is one of those nights, and she can't help but smile as she holds her hood to her head and makes the leap from one brick ledge to the next. Loose orange hair snaking out in front of her, aided by the backing wind, she leans over the side of the building, eyes peering over the alley down below.

Old habits die hard, y'know? And even though she's off duty tonight, she still has to check. Too many of her friends, her family, end up at the bottom of these barrels; hell, she's pretty familiar with a few of them herself.

Hands jammed in the pockets of her jacket--an old purple, crushed velvet looking thing that's sits on her ribcage because it hasn't fit her properly in too many moons--she shrugs once and snaps back upright. No groaning or moaning or cursing the villains of the city to be heard, she can continue on her merry way.

She gets a couple buildings ahead, two away from Jen's to be exact, when she skirts onto the heel of her beat up running shoes. Cocking her head to the side, her hearing takes on a new shade, silver as the moonlight and then, there at the bottom, a slick stripe of red.

"Really?" she asks the sky from the top rung of the fire escape, her hands already dusted in a fine layer of brown-orange rust. It's easy to heft herself down, her movements quick and deft and far too trained in this scenario. 

When she gets to the end of the ladder, rattling the metal without a care, she cocks an eyebrow at the distance. She knows better than to try to kick the extension out, it's probably fused tight to its predecessor, but she also doesn't want to break an ankle on top of everything else. 

It's funny, because she knows if she were in her suit this would be a non-issue, but something about the nakedness of the moment makes her feel all human. There's another groan from beneath her, though, and she doesn't have much of a choice in the matter anymore. The busted asphalt meets the soles of her shoes heartily, bustling vibrations up into her shins, but leaving her otherwise intact.

"Hello?" she tries, running her tongue along her teeth as she waits for an answer. "Heard your noises and I figured you could use some help?"

A small, puffing laugh and, "From up there?"

Patsy's brain fritzes at how small, how young the voice sounds. Her nose twitches, her eyebrows peak. "What?"

"You heard--ah!--you heard me from all the way up there?"

"Sure did." She follows the otherwise chipper cadence of the voice to, surprise, surprise, the far side of a dumpster.

"That's pretty cool." She's definitely young, Patsy surmises when she looks over the girl. Her round face still chubby with baby fat and her eyes sweetly devoid of dark spots. And even though her hands are slick with blood where they press against her abdomen, she doesn't seem perturbed. Any of Patsy friends who had been doing this forever (god were they all getting old) would at least look a little put out.

"Shit, kid," Patsy says on a low whistle, eyes bouncing from the short crop of brown hair plastered across her forehead to the warm, spreading stain on her suit to the bushy tail tucked up against the wall behind her. There's blood everywhere.

"Doreen Green, age eighteen, I think that guy might have punctured my spleen," the girl says automatically, teeth bared. "I'd offer to shake your hand, but um, that seems rude. Considering. The blood, y'know?"

Patsy crouches down to meet her, a small laugh punctuating her, "Thanks for looking out," as she does her best to assess the damage. 

"I think it looks worse than it is," Doreen says, but Patsy begs to differ, because it looks pretty damn bad. Her suit is totaled, stained like the bottom of Jen's couch cushion after that run-in with a bottle of red. She knows she can't leave her here, but for a split second she wonders if she should have someone come meet them.

"Seriously," she continues, slapping on a brave smile. "Let me just-" Hands still on her stomach, she pushes to her feet with surprising strength, tail not included, but immediately wobbles back onto her heels, shoes scuffing the concrete as she careens for the brick wall behind her.

"Woah, there!" Patsy jerks forward and seizes her shoulders in her hands. "All right, let's get you outta here, okay?"

Bleerily, Doreen replies, "Okay," and doesn't even squirm around when Patsy hefts her up into her arms, just locks a hand behind Patsy's neck and says, "If this is a kidnapping, I just want to warn you that my friends'll really ruin your day," she jokes, but the way she's looking at her makes Patsy think it's recognition she sees in her eyes.

"No worries, this is heroes helping heroes," Patsy says as she sets them off along the back way, her gait sure and wide.

"Hero?"

"We'll talk about it when we get to my place, my wife'll clear up any questions, I think," she says with small grin, canines flashing delightedly.

Her face splits into a grin, big enough that Patsy wonders if it'll need stitches too. "You've got a wife? That's great. I haven't had a girlfriend yet, but I can't wait. How long have you been together?"

"Well," Patsy starts, shifting her grip around to something more sustainable. She can't help the way her smile lingers on her face at Doreen's comment. "If I'm old as dirt, and she's old as dust, then it'll be ten years in December."

"That's really great--is she a hero, too?"

Patsy flicks her eyes down, worried that this'll all be too much strain, but Doreen has her head bowed over herself as she determinedly pressures her blood back into her body. She figures the least she can do is indulge the kid.

"Best one I've ever known."

"Aw, that's really sweet."

They fall into silence after that, Doreen's tail twitching emphatically in time with the rhythm of Patsy's breath. She only picks her head up from her dealings once, and then it's only to lock eyes with something on one of the buildings across the street while Patsy fumbles at the buzzer to the apartment.

Jen's voice is sound to behold when she answers with her usual, "Pats?"

"A-yep. And friend."

"Friend?"

"I'll explain it when we get there, but uh, have the first aid pack out, pretty please? I'm fine, but friend-"

"Not so much, got it. Do you need help with the stairs?"

"I've got this one."

The buzzer rings out loud and sharp, and Patsy lurches to pry the door open with her foot. She makes an impressive spin to catch the door with the expanse just between her shoulderblades, but makes it over the threshold without incident. Before it closes, her eyes catch on the figure of a small animal on the rooftop Doreen had been looking at.

"That's just Tip," Doreen says to Patsy's curious expression as they move toward the stairs--elevator's out, of course. "She's keeping an eye out."

"And Tip is a…" Light bulb. "squirrel?"

"Mhm."

Well, it's not the weirdest thing she's ever seen. Not even the weirdest animal.

The maneuvering it takes to get them upstairs should win her some kind of award; they manage to make it up to the right floor in the same number of pieces they started in, after all, so it's pretty much a win all around. Except for, of course, Doreen's predicament, which Patsy had wanted to fix in the first place, but after their chat on the way over, she can't help but feel like it's her personal duty.

The door to her and Jen's apartment is already swung open at the end of the hall, a hazy light filtering out and spreading across the floor like a welcome mat. Patsy trudges in, smiling tiredly at her wife who's sat on the edge of the island, and says, "Look what the cat dragged in?"

Jen shakes her head, exhaling a little laugh while she hops down and motions for Patsy to set her new charge down. "You just had to take the long way home, huh?" she asks with an affectionate tilt of her head. 

Patsy shoots a look down at Doreen to find her mouth opening and closing like the goldfish she'd had as a kid. Her cheeks have rushed red and her fingers are tighter than they had been on the quick jaunt over.

"Doreen?" she asks, depositing her on the island so she can make eye contact. "Are you okay--are you going into shock?"

"Doreen?" Jen echoes as the girl herself starts spluttering.

"Your- your _crazy cool wife is She-Hulk?_ " she blurts, eyes wide and, yeah, Patsy gets it now, star-struck. "Oh, my god. Oh, wow, this is. Oh, wow."

"Squirrel-Girl?" Jen asks as she takes over from Patsy, bumping her gently out of the way to get her own look at the girl's injuries. Though her green hair is pulled back in a high, perfunctory ponytail, little wisps still crowd her face and hang in front of her eyes. Under different circumstances, Patsy would be more than happy to get on tip-toe and brush them out of the way.

"Yes, ma'am. I don't know if you really remember me? But I'm, I'm a really big fan."

Jen just smiles sunnily at her, unaware of how it makes Doreen's eyes shine with what Patsy guesses to be pure adoration. "You're kinda like me, hey? Squirrel tail, seven foot tall gamma-radiated hulk, we're hard to forget."

Doreen squeaks, nodding quickly as Jen inspects her most pressing wound, dabbing at it with gauze here and there. "Worse than it looks," she assures her. "Bleeding's already stopped and everything, but we're still gonna patch you up if that's all right? You did a great job."

"I really appreciate it, but I don't want to like, impose on you two? Tip and the rest of the brigade can for sure get me to the hospital-" she starts clambering to her feet, her small, bloody hands smacking prints against the granite countertop that Patsy will remember three weeks from now and feel a shiver clamber up her spine for.

"Slow your roll," she says, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder because it's about the only place that isn't busted up. "You're in no shape to even cross the hall, all right? We're happy to help."

Doreen breathes a sigh of relief, slumping back into a sitting position as Jen starts to hover around her with first aid supplies in hand. "Thank you so much, Miss, uh. Ma'am."

"Patsy," she corrects gently, going for reassuring and hoping she's still got it. It's been a long time since she's had to interact with a teenager, longer since she's been one, and that wasn't exactly the most universal of experiences.

"Thank you, Miss Patsy."

"You can drop the 'miss,'" she assures her. "It makes me sound so _old_ \--yes, Jen, I do realize that I actually am old, and I'm using my three year seniority on you to preemptively strike against that joke."

"Ah, c'mon, you didn't even let me say it," Jen boos, swiping softly at the cuts on Doreen's face with antiseptic. "She never lets me get to the joke," she explains. "You know how rude old people can be though, always interrupting."

Doreen looks like she isn't sure if she's supposed to laugh or not, her cheeks puffing out an extra two sizes while she frantically cuts her eyes between the duo before her.

"Hey, you just remember what I told you on your last birthday: your fifties are coming for you and your hot biceps, babe."

Jen rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling, and Patsy's smiling, and Doreen looks like she's gonna start smiling any second, but then Jen hits a pretty good cut by her lip and she recoils, hissing between her teeth.

As it turns out, she curses like a pissed off pre-school teacher. Her exclamation, instead of anything cathartic, is a sharp, "Mother _Hubbard_!" but she says it with such fury that Patsy can't help but dig it.

Jen motions Patsy over and they set to work in earnest, trying not to prolong her pain in any way. There's an, "Oh-klahoma!" when Patsy accidentally bumps a mean looking bruise on the inside of her arm, and a small, "Yowza," when Jen inspects her mottled nose.

But it's when Jen's steady hands set to scrubbing away the velvet red remnants across her abdomen with perfunctory movement, when she gives her two quick stitches that Patsy hears a head-first slide into home, "Shit!"

"All done, all done," Jen says, snatching her hands back and holding them up in surrender. "Pats, will you grab the good painkillers--if you can reach them?"

Patsy snorts in genuine glee before she can stop herself, but she quickly pulls her face into faux souring once she realizes her mistake. "Oh, real funny, Glamazonia."

Mouth cracked into a half smile, Jen just nods toward the cabinet on the far side of the kitchen, and Patsy--and her tip toes, thank you very much--obliges the request.

Resting two oblong blue pills in Doreen's already outstretched hand, Patsy then skirts around the side of the island as Jen delivers a glass of water from the Brita. 

"So," Jen starts, turning back around to shuffle through her cabinets for something acceptable for them all to eat. The booze and discount cheese platter she and Patsy had had planned for the night didn't really seem appropriate anymore (or legal, for that matter.) "You wanna tell us how this happened? Who we should keep an eye out for?" Then, thoughtfully, "Also, do you have any allergies?"

"Just tree nuts," Doreen replies, voice steadfast and expression relaxed. Over her shoulder, Patsy makes a horrified face, but the teen quickly backtracks before it can set in. "Kidding! Um, no not that I know of, but you don't have to like, feed me or anything? You two have already done so much, so really it's fine-"

"You kidding? Jen keeps so many Twinkies under the sink the least she could do is share with the general populace."

"I've got some Ding Dongs to spare, but no one's getting any of my Twinkies."

"Do you have any Oatmeal Pies?" Doreen pipes in before Patsy can retort, and Jen beams at her in reply.

"Sure do; one or two? Actually, probably best to get your sugar back up," she rattles off, toeing the door open with a slippered foot. There's a split-second shot of a social media worthy Little Debbie and Hostess spread, but Jen's in and out Quicksilver quick, nabbing two Oatmeal Creme Pies, a Twinkie, and a Honeybun before Doreen can even get over the sugar rush that fills her eyes. 

She tosses the pies gently to Doreen, who catches them with uttered gratefulness, tearing through the wrapping on the first one with her front teeth. She spats it into her hand and shoves the first half of the pie in her mouth, humming excitedly as her cheeks fill out and her eyes scrunch shut.

"And for you, honeybun," Jen says, waggling the bun in front of her face before tossing it over.

"Sap." Patsy puckers her lips, clicking rapid-fire kissy sounds at Jen. Doreen muffles laughter into her second pie.

The kitchen is at once plunged into tooth-aching silence, only the crinkle of wrappers and Patsy's earnest chewing marring the simple pleasure of it. Jen collects the trash from each woman when they're done, stowing it away in the can hidden in the island behind a pull drawer.

"So…" Doreen trails, looking between them with a twinkle in her eyes. "Ten years?" 

All thoughts of who and why and where are suspended in favor of something kinder. Common ground is easier to stand on when it isn't an aching concrete.

"In December," Jen replies automatically, a beautiful grin slipping onto her features when her eyes pass over to Patsy. 

Doreen thinks that they look like they're her age when they look at each other like that. It's sweet as Jen's snack bunker

"You wanna hear all about it?" Patsy offers, slipping an arm under Doreen's and around her back to help her shuffle to the living room. "We love talking about our relationship, but all our friends hate hearing about it now," she jokes, lowering Doreen into the corner of the couch. 

"The blood-" she protests, trying to jolt back to her feet against Patsy.

Jen rounds the corner with her hands raised in placation. "That couch was ruined years ago, I promise. Between my affinity for a nice red and how interactive I am watching cooking competitions, it never really stood a chance." Her smile isn't sappy now, but it's just as big, just as reassuring. Doreen sinks into the couch without another second of hesitation, her legs giving way and her back bouncing off the cushions.

"Oh, this is-" she starts, searching for the right word as her head lolls back. "Wow," she settles on. 

"Comfy, right?" Patsy asks while she's pulling her legs up under herself in the faded wingback chair positioned across from her. Jen sits on the floor, easing her head back onto Patsy's calves and letting her eyes fall shut when her wife starts inching her fingers through her unspooling hair.

"I got it seventy percent off at a liquidation sale, it was hell to maneuver up the staircase, but totally worth it," Jen says proudly, but she grimaces as soon as the words are finished leaving her mouth. From the side of her lips she remarks with quiet distaste, "I sound like someone's dad."

"Seventy?" Doreen asks overtop Jen's complaint, her words bulging from her mouth like eyes from sockets. She looks like she wants to say more, but she cuts herself off with a long exhale; not quite a yawn, but definitely predating one. 

"Sorry," she says when the yawn finally does come. "I guess I'm pretty whooped." She laughs, high and light, threaded with red quickflash. "I'll get out of your hair, but thank you both for the assist."

"Doreen," Jen says gently, not making any move to get up lest the girl feel trapped. "If you want, if you _need_ , you're more than welcome to stay here for the night. Patsy and I'll watch out for you, let you get some rest, recuperate a little bit."

Doreen blinks curiously at the picture of them, rested comfortably against one another, promising to watch over her. She believes them so fiercely it brings tears to her tired eyes. 

"Thank you," she says thickly. "Seriously, thank you so much, you really don't have to-" she feels herself start to babble and makes a jagged movement for her mouth with her hand. "Thank you," she peeps again against the inside of her hand.

"No problem," Patsy says when Jen can't, "We could all do with a little more sticking together."

She hums at the sentiment, but she knows there's other things to be said. Around the lump lodged green in her throat, she asks, "Do you have anyone you need to call?"

Doreen thinks of her roommate, who probably hasn't been back to their dorm since break started. She hasn't really made any friends here yet, either, and her parents had already received their nightly good night text. 

"Actually, could you help me to the window?"

Jen acquiesces immediately, pushing to her feet and picking her way over to the young woman on pinned and needled feet. 

She doesn't ask any questions, and neither does Patsy, who's hauling the window pushed into the apartment's corner open. She peeps out onto the fire escape, retreating only to give the thumbs up.

Doreen leans onto the sill with Jen's help, her fingers braced proudly against the thick paint lines, and chatters something to the wind. Not a moment later she's at a pulpit, ready to speak to the furry crowd of around two dozen staring up at her with unwavering eyes. One squirrel in particular-- _this one must be Tip,_ Patsy thinks--moves boldly and claims a seat right beside Doreen's pinkie.

A quick, emotional conversation flows over the next two and a half minutes--Patsy times it by the clock on the stove, splitting her waiting game down the middle by eyeing Doreen in awe. 

When she's done, Doreen just smiles, holding a finger out for Tip to fistbump before scampering off.

"They're gonna keep lookout around the building," she tells them finally, pulling back into the apartment. "They'll let me know if there's anything afoot."

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Patsy blurts before she can think better of it. It at least makes Doreen laugh.

"I can give you some pointers in the morning."

"Awesome," Patsy murmurs under her breath, sounding not unlike her new charge.

Together, she and Jen get Doreen back to the couch and situate her with a blanket and pillows after ascertaining she was going to be far more comfortable with an eye on the window. Otherwise, they all three knew, Jen would have stuck her in her bed, and she and Patsy would have made do with the living room.

"Just shout if you need anything, we'll be just around the corner," Patsy says sometime later, cutting the light, leaving Doreen to yawn to the moonlight. To her wife she murmurs, "Now I sound like someone's dad, quit rubbing off on me."

"C'mon." Jen slots her hands on Patsy's waist and they give their guest one last set of smiles before heading to the bedroom where they fall onto the mattress side by side on top of the covers.

Patsy's hair is caught stubbornly under her shoulderblades and Jen's arm is bent at an awkward angle, but they turn to face one another, their noses almost brushing, and smile.

"Sorry for upending our night, but I couldn't-" Patsy starts.

"You did good tonight, Pats," Jen says softly, eyes caught on the end of Patsy's nose. They can't reach any lower, can't see the dip of her lips, but they make paper snowflakes--lovingly cut out and preserved things--from what they can get to.

"You did, too," she agrees, pressing forward for a chaste kiss. "And I think you kind of made her night."

"She's just a kid. A good kid, but just a kid." She rolls completely onto her side, resting her head along the line of her forearm contemplatively. "I remember her from when she was first starting out; I didn't even realize she was in town. And I don't know what it was, but once I saw it was her, after the rush of getting her patched up, I just wanted her to know that she had people that would look out for her."

Patsy kisses the point of her elbow, skin a darker green there than the surrounding area. "So, we put the word out to our little circle, tell 'em Squirrel Girl's one of ours now. We'll have her back."

Jen smiles. "Yeah. Remind me to get an extra box of Oatmeal Creme Pies next time I go shopping?"

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr @foxmulldr


End file.
